


halcyon

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blowjobs, Frottage, M/M, and kenma's grown into himself and knows exactly what he wants, and kuroo doesn't know what to do with himself, and like then they move in with each other, i feel like he'd get more confident without having kuroo with him for a year, idk this could be when they're both in college so, kenma's ooc??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6173353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kenma talks in his sleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	halcyon

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to karli (battleatthegarbagedump) for showing me this AWESOME art (http://aphdennor.co.vu/post/140475083488/kuroo) i had to write it!

Kenma talks in his sleep. He says short, fragmented sentences and bits of words, and Kuroo believes it’s to make up for his silence when he’s awake. He doesn’t think much of it when Kenma sniffles, sighs against his leg, and shifts, his head falling closer to Kuroo’s thigh than his knee.

It’s when Kuroo’s eyelids begin to turn leaden themselves that Kenma tenses, grips hard at the fabric of his jeans, and _moans_ , soft and shaky but unmistakably _that_.

Kuroo holds his breath, tightens his fingers on the couch’s arm. His blood roars in his ears and muddles any coherent, rational idea he might have left, when Kenma _does it again_ , and this time, it’s Kuroo’s name, broken, followed by Kenma’s body squirming,  _writhing_. Kuroo presses his fist to his mouth.

“Kur-” sharp, jagged breathing, Kenma’s eyelids fluttering, " _Kuro_ , I- _please,_ ” Kenma keens and Kuroo drags a pillow into his lap, biting down on his knuckles hard enough to break the skin, and he tastes iron on the back of his palate. " _Fuck_ .” Kenma says, and Kuroo’s _gone_ , leaping over the back of their couch and hightailing it into the bathroom, leaning heavily against the door.

Kuroo counts to ten, to twenty, wringing his hands and raking his fingers through his hair, the rushing of thoughts in his head so cacophonous he doesn’t hear Kenma’s feet padding towards him. His head knocks hard against the door when Kenma calls his name.

“Kuro?” It’s rough, torn with sleep. “Kuro, come out.”

“I’m sorry!” Kuroo says, presses the backs of his hands to his cheeks.

“Why?” Kenma sounds exasperated, now. “It was me, anyways.”

“I freaked out.”

“Yeah,” Kenma says, ringed with amusement.

 _"You_ wouldn’t have.”

“Hm,” Kenma responds, “come out.”

Kuroo flicks the lock open. Kenma grunts as he wedges the door open and pushes Kuroo’s weight across the bathroom’s tile. Kuroo takes his hand, lets Kenma tug him to his feet.

“You act as if I don't want you like that,” Kenma reaches out, his fingers cool against Kuroo’s cheek. “I do, if you haven’t noticed.”

Kuroo swallows at the blush feathered across Kenma’s nose, at the plush pout of his lips, and Kenma slides a hand into Kuroo’s hair, pulling him down and kissing him, _kissing him_ , moving Kuroo’s hands to the sweet curve of his waist.

“Walk,” Kenma demands, pushing him. Kuroo trips backwards towards his bedroom, Kenma’s fingers rubbing over his bitten knuckles.

Kenma steps onto his tiptoes once they've reached, brushing Kuroo’s hair back and pressing their lips together, hot and insistent. Kuroo skirts a hand below the hem of Kenma’s shirt and runs it up the knobs of his spine, breathes into Kenma’s open mouth.

“You don't have to be nervous,” Kenma kisses the mirthless laugh out of his mouth.

“I don't want to do anything you don't like.”

“You're lucky,” Kenma deadpans, kissing the jut of Kuroo’s collarbone, “for some reason, I seem to like _you_.” Kenma bites, a small smile pressed soft against Kuroo’s skin, and then he’s tangling his fingers into Kuroo’s hair to pull him down again. “All of you,” Kenma says, and then he's licking into Kuroo’s mouth, sucking softly at Kuroo's bottom lip and tracing over his abdomen, hands small but pulsing with power Kuroo knows lies hidden in Kenma’s wiry frame.

“Dead fish,” Kenma teases, and Kuroo groans, squeezing Kenma’s hips and tugging him closer. “That’s better.” Kenma slots a leg between Kuroo’s, rocking up, and he pulls his shirt off, tapping at the hem of Kuroo’s.

Kuroo can’t help but stare, can’t stop himself from taking in the slender dip of Kenma’s waist and his soft skin, tinted pink, the light down of hair disappearing under the waistband of his shorts. Kenma balls up his shirt and throws it at him, hitting Kuroo in the face.

“Take your shirt off.”

Kuroo obeys and bends to kiss Kenma again, threads his fingers through Kenma’s long hair and runs his nails over Kenma’s scalp. Kenma hums, nips at Kuroo’s bottom lip, and presses the heel of his hand to the front of Kuroo’s jeans.

" _F_ _uck_ , Kenma,” Kuroo jumps, his hips following Kenma’s palm. " _K_ _enma_.”

“What?” The sound of Kuroo’s zipper is gunfire, echoing off the inside of his skull. “Tell me, Kuroo.” Kenma’s slender fingers hook beneath his boxers and pull them down. Kuroo bites the inside of his cheek.

“Are you _sure_?”

Kenma pushes him backwards onto his bed.

“Shut up.” And he crawls down the length of Kuroo's body, fluidly, dragging a finger down Kuroo’s abdomen as he does it, auric eyes blinking  before he’s taking Kuroo’s cock in his hand. “I’m sure. Are you sure?”

“I am,” Kuroo sets a hand on Kenma’s cheek. “Really, I think I might die _,_ Kenm- _ah!”_

Kenma mouths at the head, meeting Kuroo’s eyes as he sucks him down, down until Kuroo’s cock bumps the back of his throat, and it’s blinding, hot heat until Kenma’s pulling off of him and kissing his hip. Kuroo watches, transfixed, as Kenma laps at him, drinks him in and looks like he _loves_ it, sweat collecting lightly on his brow as his breath picks up.

“You’re,” Kuroo feels himself arcing, drawing tight as a bow when Kenma sucks _hard_ at the base, dipping his tongue into Kuroo’s slit on his way back up, “you’re gorgeous, Kenma, Kenma-” Kenma mewls, and Kuroo glimpses his hand moving to trail beneath the elastic of his sweats. “Can I touch you?”

Kenma lolls his tongue as he pulls off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and crawling up to straddle Kuroo.

“Please,” he says, and Kuroo’s brain _fries_ thinking about Kenma writhing beside him on the couch, whining _please_ low in his throat, and he scrambles to tug Kenma’s pants off, dropping them over the side of his bed and kissing Kenma till he’s wiggling for friction.

Kenma exhales when their hips align, the slight jerk of his hips sending frisson electric down the length of Kuroo’s vertebrae.

“Kuro,” Kenma sighs, leaning down and bracketing Kuroo’s head between his hands, “feels good, right?” Kuroo registers nodding, his forehead knocking against Kenma’s, and Kenma’s laugh puffs over his face.

It’s easy, from there, Kenma’s hips tilting into his, sighs mounting higher, higher till they’re breathless and keening and Kenma’s coming messily over Kuroo’s chest, reaching down to jerk Kuroo off until he’s shuddering, spilling into Kenma’s palm and biting his lip till its raw.

Kenma cleans them off, kicking Kuroo’s blanket out from under them and burrowing below it, his palm atop Kuroo’s.

“I really liked that.” Kenma says, once Kuroo’s limbs regain feeling and his toes stop tingling. “I hope you’re not having an aneurysm.”

“Not,” Kuroo manages, “I’m okay. I’m-”

Kenma raises an eyebrow.

“I love you.”

“Yeah,” Kenma shifts closer, “I know. Good.”

Kuroo hears it after his eyes close, when Kenma knows he’s just lucid enough to imagine things, things like Kenma’s lips pressing “I love you” into the skin of his shoulder, warmer than sunlight.

 


End file.
